


The Definition of Therapeutic

by WritLarge



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M, Sandy POV, Therapeutic prompt, faveshipweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-11-17 14:23:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11277090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritLarge/pseuds/WritLarge
Summary: Cure Pitch? North seems to think "fixing" Pitch and restoring Kozmotis Pitchiner is doable. Sandy disagrees.





	1. of or relating to the treatment of disease or disorders by remedial agents or methods

_1: of or relating to the treatment of disease or disorders by remedial agents or methods: curative, medicinal therapeutic diets_

Sandy shook his head again. They meant well, but they didn’t understand.

“But, if he was somebody else before, why wouldn’t you want to cure him?” Jack looked back and forth between them – North who had been overflowing with new methods to fix “Kozmotis Pitchiner” and Sandy who had been steadfastly denying them.

Tooth had long since vanished, fretting over the disarray of the rescued tooth boxes. They wouldn’t be seeing her anytime soon. Sandy would have done the same, needing to reclaim whatever tainted dreamsand still remained, but North had started with his suggestions and drawn Jack in. The newest Guardian was naive to the history of the Golden Age, had no concept of the old wounds that he was poking at. North, on the other hand, should have known better.

Bunny eyed them warily from the far side of the room. 

North waggled a finger at Sandy, “You are too soft with him.”

Sandy responded, clear enough for even North to comprehend his indignation.

“But we could cure him if we-”

“North,” Bunny cut in sharply, “if Sandy says it can’t be done, leave it be.” 

The burly man grumbled low, about can’t and won’t, throwing his hands up in the air and retreating. Jack followed in his wake, glancing back in confusion before disappearing with North into his workroom. 

Bunnymund’s eyes met his and Sandy acknowledged him with a weary gratitude. The Pooka saw too much, but he was an old friend, and they’d both lived long enough to grant one another a certain degree of trust, even when they thought the other was being a fool.

“You never met Kozmotis,” he said, which was true. Sanderson Mansnoozie hadn’t been in the thick of the war the way E. Aster Bunnymund had. “He was a good man.”

Sandy blinked. Did Bunny want-

“He’s also very, very dead.” Ah. “Whatever pieces of him are left, it’s not enough to put him back together.”

No, Sandy agreed. It wouldn’t work, even if it had been what he wanted.

“Not that it would hurt to remind him of those pieces now and then. He’s gone a bit far in the other direction, don’t you think?” Bunnymund’s gaze was piercing. The Guardian of Hope had left behind his dispassionate personality almost two centuries ago and these days, when he had something to say, he was far more direct and intense. Sandy had thought he’d been careful enough, none of the others had noticed surely? But Bunny, even with the chaos of what Pitch had done, saw right through him.

“Don’t make that face, mate. Did you think I didn’t know before? The only reason I backed off of watching him was because of you. I expected you had it in hand, close as you were, and Pitch was quiet enough, but you didn’t realize what he was doing with the sand, did you?”

Sandy shook his head regretfully. 

“I’d be angrier on your behalf, but you don’t seem terribly traumatized by what he did. Did he try and tuck you away somewhere for safekeeping ‘til the rest of us carked it?”

That was exactly what Pitch had intended to do, keep Sandy for his own after defeating the Guardians. Something Sandy wouldn’t have let happen had he not been incapacitated. The arrow had been a shock, but afterwards had been almost pleasant, they way Pitch had swaddled him in his nightmare sand. If he’d been more ruthless Sandy wouldn’t have managed to escape.

“North’s all right, bastard that he is, but his solutions won’t bring back Koz. They’ll break Pitch’s mind or kill him outright. Of course, if he were broken, he could be put back together as a more congenial personification of fear...”

Sandy lit up with the anger that idea inspired in him.

“But I can see you won’t be having any truck with that,” Bunny gave him a small smile. “You need to talk some sense into your whatever-he-is, mate. I won’t be making any promises about what might happen if he tries this again.”

That was fair enough, Sandy nodded, and probably the best he could hope for.


	2. Chapter 2

2  
_: having a beneficial effect on the body or mind_

“Are you here to gloat?” Pitch’s sulky tone told Sandy all he needed to know about the man’s current state of mind.

_Does that seem like something I would do?_

“I suppose not. Why are you here then?”

Sandy looked at where Pitch lounged in the shadows. Did he really not know?

“I don’t understand you. You should be furious.”

_Maybe I’ve already worked out my anger._

“That’s all it took?”

_It wasn’t as though you tried to kill me. And there’s also the matter of this._ Sandy swirled his fingers through a little of the dark sand that sparkled in the air. Not much of the nightmare sand remained. Sandy had pulled most of it back, purifying it, and whatever he hadn’t yet claimed wasn’t enough to make anything larger than a cat.

“What about it?”

_You haven’t done anything this dark in centuries. The fearlings disintegrated long ago. Where did this come from? Why now?_

“It isn’t the first time I’ve tainted your sand.”

_No, but this isn’t the same. You aren’t the same._ Pitch scowled at him, but he seemed almost... embarrassed? Was it an accident? Was that how this started?

Pitch rose and waved a hand at him, “What does it matter? Why are you here? Did they send you to chastise me further? Perhaps seal me up properly this time?”

_No. Nicholas St. North wants to cure you._

“Cure me?” Pitch stared at him in horror. 

_Bunnymund and I dissuaded him._

“Oh yes. I’m sure the Pooka would rather be more efficient in executing me.”

_No one intends to have you killed._

“No?” 

_No._

“Why are you here then?”

That was a fair question but not one Sandy knew how to answer properly. They’d never talked about what had grown between them, their understanding, and to do so now would be hard with recent events clouding the discussion. 

Why was he here? To help, of course, in whatever way Pitch wanted to would accept. He didn’t blame the man for being wary. Not after the defeat Sandy had been forced to make him suffer. Still, maybe if he could find the right words he could convince Pitch to let him try? He had a theory about what had happened.

“Nothing to say?”

_I think that when you began corrupting my sand, it affected you more than you thought it would._

Pitch went still.

_And I think you should admit that._

“Fear is natural and not inherently corrupting-”

_That’s not what I meant and you know it._

“I’m the Boogeyman.”

_But not the Nightmare King._ The Nightmare King had died in the battle with the Guardians centuries ago much the same way as Kozmotis Pitchiner had been destroyed by fearlings eons earlier, yet pieces of them remained within this Pitch Black. Perhaps working dark magic on the sand again had awakened more monstrous remnants inside of him.

“It’s hard to be a king without a kingdom,” Pitch grumbled. “What makes you so sure they’d care?”

_About you?_ Pitch gave him a curt nod. Sandy wasn’t sure what the other Guardians would think, but he believed that they would at least hear him out. _Do they need to? They’ll at least be concerned about your role. We can start there._

“And if I don’t care about them?”

_Then perhaps you’ll try for me?_

Pitch blinked at him owlishly for a moment before the expression was washed away by a sly smirk.

“Oh dearest, make up with my friends and all will be well?” The words had a mocking edge. 

Sandy nodded. 

“And you’ll tell them about us?” Pitch peered at him through narrowed eyes, frowning.

_Of course._ Why deny it? They weren’t lovers the way humans would understand the term, but it would do.

“You-” he stumbled over his words, shadows flickering around them. “You’re ridiculous and far too trusting.”

Sandy nodded again, watching Pitch consider his options.

“One meeting.”

_In good faith._ Pitch’s eyes flashed.

“I will if they will.” Sandy clapped his hands in satisfaction, eliciting a mild scowl from Pitch. “Don’t expect me to shake hands with the Pooka, and Santa had better keep his sorcery to himself.”

_He will._

“You must be mad to trust this.” Pitch smiled just a little and closed the remaining distance between them. The dregs of the nightmare sand were slowly drifting through the air and back to Sandy, losing their taint as they came close enough for him to reclaim.

_Perhaps._

“Hmm,” he trailed a hand carefully down Sandy’s side, watching the last remaining specks of nightmare sand vanish. “You need to shore up your defenses.”

_No one but you could have slipped past._

Pitch jerked back, “I only wanted... I wouldn’t have hurt you.”

_I know._ He did. He had, even then. But they couldn’t continue this way. Sandy hoped Pitch would understand.

“Halfway then?” A compromise.

Sandy nodded. Maybe it would be enough.


	3. Chapter 3

3  
_: producing a useful or favorable result or effect_

“Must I?”

Sandy nodded encouragingly.

Pitch scowled, sitting ramrod straight while they waited for the Guardians to arrive at Sandy’s island. 

It would be easiest with Bunny, he suspected. He and Pitch were opposed in the same way Jack and Pitch were, Fear and Hope pulled in opposite directions while Fear and Fun each sought to undermine the other. Bunnymund, however, had long years of introspection and experience, millennia to process his grief and discover the shades of dark and light in all people. It helped that Pitch Black was no more Kozmotis Pitchiner than he was the Nightmare King. He’d been changed by Belief and the Earth as much as the rest of them had and it was enough that Bunnymund would give him a chance if Sandy asked for it. 

A chance. One. And if Pitch proved himself unable to change Bunny wouldn’t hesitate to put him down. Sandy found that strangely comforting. If Pitch turned on them again he wasn’t sure he’d have it in him to do the same.

Toothiana and her fairies had the most recent grudge. She was quick with her feelings, however, and had already taken some measure of revenge. North... he might yet offer his magical solutions, but that offence aside, he had his own experience with second chances. Sandy was confident that he’d go along with Bunny. The Pooka had more justification than the rest of them combined for wanting Pitch dead.

Jack was the wild card. Sandy hoped the Guardian of Fun might let his sympathy for Pitch’s lack of Belief influence him.

Sandy floated over to Pitch and pressed against his side.

“Honestly,” Pitch unclenched a little, “I’ve already promised to be on my best behaviour.”

_I know, he reassured him, I believe you._

“Well, I suppose that’s something,” the Boogeyman smiled. “Once this is over, we’re avoiding everyone for at least three months.”

“Three months?’ Jack was first to land, jolting them both with surprise. “I guess that works. Still leaves a couple months before Halloween.” Bunnymund was here too, somewhere. Sandy had felt him arrive. 

“Halloween?” Pitch responded in confusion.

“What, that’s not yours?”

“Not as such, no.”

“Really? Because I have ideas about Halloween. I mean, it’s not technically winter, but-” Jack chattered on with nervous energy while Pitch turned to look at Sandy in astonishment. 

Sandy grinned.

Pitch cut in abruptly, “I wouldn’t have thought you’d appreciate the nuance.”

“Seriously? Haunted houses and jump scares and pranks... it could work,” Jack’s reaction was encouraging, though he was staying a staff’s length away from Pitch and worrying a little at the scar in the wood with his hands.

“Fun and Fear,” Pitch seemed to roll the words around in his mouth. “What do the other Guardians think of your plans?”

“I talked to Bunny about it. He’s kind of the barometer on this, you know?” Sandy felt Pitch stiffen again. He’d yet to truly convince Pitch that Bunnymund wasn’t just waiting for an opportunity to strike. “I mean, no offence Sandy, but you’re kind of biased about your boyfriend.”

Sandy nodded in agreement, pleased that Bunny had taken it on himself to forewarn Jack, providing a counterpoint to North’s influence. Pitch had lashed out at the boy particularly during their battles. Despite his clear wariness, however, Jack seemed prepared to try.

“Boyfriend! When did that happen! Sandy, you never tell me anything,” Toothiana flitted down and settled, hands on her hips. 

Pitch smiled widely and wisely kept quiet while Sandy attempted to explain himself to Tooth. It was no easy task. Bunnymund eventually showed himself as well, hanging back next to Jack and putting a calming hand on the new Guardian’s shoulder, soothing the anxiety of his simultaneous enthusiasm and reticence. 

North was late.

Sandy threw a question mark Bunny’s way and got an innocent shrug in response. Oh. Trust Bunny to instill order in the proceedings. Jack had appeared early enough to get his piece out before Toothiana had descending with her rapid fire questions, completely distracted from her grudge by the revelation of Sandy and Pitch’s relationship. And now North was late, despite having both the sleigh and snow globes at his disposal. How had Bunny managed that?

Tooth finally crossed her arms and sighed, flitting over to greet Jack and Bunny. They’d chosen their meeting time carefully, with the least disruption to Tooth and Sandy’s work given that night was falling over the least populated time zones in the Pacific at the moment.

“Sandy,” Bunny called him over. He tilted his head at Pitch. “Give us a minute?”

Sandy agreed and watched Bunny cross to Pitch, trying not to worry.

“Pretty sure Bunny’s going to give him a Shovel Talk.” Sandy’s head whipped around to face Jack. “What? You’re like bros, right?”

Pitch stood rigidly, taking in whatever Bunny was saying to him solemnly, before he blinked and nodded once, to which Bunnymund responded with a curt nod of his own. And then... nothing. They both turned to look at him. Sandy peered back, not entirely convinced by their anticlimactic exchange. Not that he had expected a fight, but still.

 _Everything all right?_ Pitch only rolled his eyes and gestured for him to return.

“Listen,” Bunny began, “North’ll be showing up any minute now. Don’t pay him any mind if he goes off again about magical purging or other nonsense. We’ve had a chat.”

Jack made a few gestures where Bunny couldn’t see indicating that he had been present for said chat and that Bunny was very much understating the conversation.

North arrived shortly thereafter and the rest of the hour was spent managing his blustering need to fix things. The man was helpful in the extreme, but he had a tendency to be overwhelming and take things farther than they generally needed to go. Jack eventually lured him away with some reasoning that Sandy had missed in his attentiveness to Pitch, who was far less disturbed by Bunnymund and far more wary of North by the time they were all leaving.

“That was... better than I expected,” Pitch conceded. “But I am never setting foot in that lunatic’s workshop again.” Nor The Warren, Sandy knew, but that wasn’t so much because of Bunny as it was due to The Light and what it might do to Pitch.

 _That’s fine,_ he settled by him again. _What did you think about Jack’s ideas?_

Pitch snorted, “He’s enthusiastically terrified of me.”

_You’re smiling._

“It’s not a bad sort of terrified. Reasonable given the circumstances. Halloween might be... interesting.”

_And Bunnymund?_

“I’ve never understood the Pooka. Not then and not now. But he cares for you and he managed the madman effectively enough.” Pitch paused to look up at the night sky. “By all rights...”

 _Yes,_ by all rights, thought Sandy, _but Bunnymund is old, in mind if not body. Even more than you and I the way we’ve slept. I think he’s hoping that we won’t have to fight anymore._

“He seemed to enjoy the battle well enough.”

_There’s a difference between enjoying a challenge and wanting a war._

“True enough,” Pitch sighed. “Shouldn’t you be off, my dear? Don’t you have unicorns and flying motorcycles and the like to wrangle?”

_Sweet dreams._

“Cautious ones too, don’t forget. You can’t be all candy and rainbows or they’ll never learn.” 

And there was the side of Pitch that Sandy wanted to encourage, the potential balance that Bunny had seen too. Fear had its uses when applied judiciously and maybe someday Pitch would see his role in positively moderating that instead of merely being a negative opposition.

Sandy shifted to press their foreheads gently together, letting his light mingle with Pitch’s shadows.

_You can come if you like._

“No. But I’ll be here when you get back,” Pitch gestured at the small dwelling that Sandy had built on the island with him in mind. “I promise.”

Sandy didn’t need Pitch’s promise, he’d find him wherever he went, but it would be a nice thought to hold while he worked, that Pitch would be waiting for him when he was done. 

_Stay as long as you like. I’ll be back soon._


End file.
